


The Sun Will Shine Again, And It Will Rain

by dementxa



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Memory Loss, Mental Health Issues, Mutual Pining, Past Relationship(s), Slow Burn, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:34:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27573856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dementxa/pseuds/dementxa
Summary: Tamarion, a young mage from Kinloch Hold, accompanies his mentor to Haven. He ends up entangled in a murderous plot.
Relationships: Cullen Rutherford/Original Character(s), Male Inquisitor/Cullen Rutherford
Kudos: 21





	The Sun Will Shine Again, And It Will Rain

**Author's Note:**

> Ugh, finally, finally I feel ready to post the first chapter!! I hope you guys like it, please comment if you do or if you don't, I'm open to all kinds of opinions about my writings!

The room was steeped in silence, the heavy air occasionally stirred by the cracking of wood in the fireplace. At first glance it seemed as if there was no one there, as the figure in the bed was so still and their breathing so shallow, a less observant person could easily miss it. And yet, there it was, strewn on the bed, the blanket covering it from its toes to the tip of its nose, leaving only a tuft of snowy white hair visible, and a pair of dark pointed ears.

Tamarion was in deep slumber, his chest steadily rising and falling. He mumbled something unintelligible and turned to lie on his side, pushing the blanket down. His nose twitched and he swatted at it, then turned to lie on his _other_ side and pressed his face into the pillow. His efforts were, however, in vain. He sneezed, the sound sinking into the soft cushion. But the jolt that ran though his body was strong enough to awaken him and he opened his eyes with a gasp.

He blinked weakly, with his face still pressed into the pillow. His heart was thrashing violently in his chest, squeezing the air out of his lungs. His head was heavy and empty at the same time and there were drums in his ears.

What an awful nightmare! Or at least he guessed it had been a nightmare. He couldn't remember any of it. But it must have been quite unpleasant because a heavy sense of dread was presently crushing his insides. One time he'd accidentally shocked himself with a spell and the way his body had turned stiff and limp from the pain was exactly how it felt now as well. was recovering from a huge shock. So it _had_ to be a nightmare … right?

If only he could remember what he'd dreamt about. Alas, he already knew that was impossible. The visions were still there, but on the edge of his mind. He could _feel_ their presence, lingering just outside of his consciousness, silent and unknowable. Even the slightest effort to summon them would send them scattering, he knew. He'd have more success catching fog with a fishing net.

Not that he was all that eager to remember what had, undoubtedly, been an unpleasant experience. But this had been an important dream. He was sure of it, he could feel it with his entire being, all the way down to his bones. Ah … but it was all gone ...

His lips were trembling. He raised his hand to his mouth and ran his nail over it, searching for a piece of skin to pull at. It was frustrating that he couldn't remember a dream he'd been having mere moments ago. It was _unfair_. If only he could have retained just the smallest bit of detail!

Chewing on his lower lip, he turned to lie on his back. A nightmare was an unpleasant experience but it paled in comparison to the agony of knowing how damaged his mind was. He could only guess how many other memories had slipped into oblivion, without him even knowing they were ever in there? He shuddered and closed his eyes. No, he shouldn't think about it. First Enchanter Irving always told him that these matters were fruitless for him to delve into.

He nodded to himself and opened his eyes. Yes, it was best to leave these issues to those wiser than him. First Enchanter Irving would scold him once he knew. He always told Tamarion that he didn't have the knowledge to understand his own condition.

He moved to get out of bed and start his day, but suddenly froze. Something … wasn't right. He'd been preoccupied with his nightmare so he'd had little attention to spare for his surroundings. But now that he had pushed his worries aside, he could finally take a good look at where he was. And what he saw sent his heart racing madly again. He sat up in alarm, his eyes darting from one corner of the room to another. For a second, he thought he was having another nightmare.

This … wasn't his home.

His room in Kinloch Hold was a tiny one, the space between its stony walls just enough for a bed and a chest of drawers. And those weren’t very nice either! The bed was hard as a rock and full of splinters, and if he ever opened a drawer just a bit too harsh, the entire chest would fall apart. Shoddy furniture aside, it was still a bleak place, with cobwebs hanging from the ceiling and deep cracks in the floor. There was always a draught, too, which was odd, as there were no windows.

This room, however, was much nicer. It was spacious, with a roaring fire right next to him providing some much needed warmth. It was much better furnished, too. A couple of bookshelves lined the walls, there were rugs on the floor and furskins on the wall, and even a painting right above the bed.

Such a cosy and beautiful place! But ... why was he here?

He threw the blanket aside and stepped off the bed. With slight confusion, he discovered he was clad in nothing but a nightshirt. Was he wearing a nightshirt before going to bed? He couldn’t remember. But, then again, he couldn't remember going to bed at all. A shiver ran down his body, despite the warm air. He rubbed his arms absently, his attention directed at the room. His eyes were roaming over every inch, examining it closely, in the hopes that something would come out, some clue to explain how he’d ended up here.

The first thing he saw were some clothes. They were hanging off the back of a chair near the bed. He wasn’t sure if they were intended for him, but they were surely warmer than what he was wearing. He quickly changed into them; a sigh of relief rolling off his lips at the unexpectedly soft touch of the fabric. How nice.

Then he noticed a lute. There had been one in the tower too, an old thing that lay in a cupboard, untouched for years. He’d always been curious about it. He reached out and brushed his fingers over the strings. What came out was an arrhythmic cacophony that no sane being would call music. Nevertheless, it brought a smile to his lips and he repeated the gesture, drawing out more noise.

But the distraction was only momentary. His smile faded as he turned his attention back to the room. Nothing made sense! There was an unfinished meal and several bottles on a table, and a scattered pile of letters on another. There wasn’t a single speck of dust on the floor, not even around the fireplace. Someone was clearly living here. This wasn't just some room, it was a _home_. What was he doing here?

Unsure of what to do, he sat back down on the bed and started picking the skin off his lower lip again. Lapses in memory were an everyday occurrence, but he’d never experienced one like this. Waking up in an entirely foreign place, with no recollection of how he’d ended up there. It was ... quite scary.

And then his hand burst into flames.

Tamarion jumped back with a yelp, and turned his head away to shield his eyes from the fire ... which didn't burn, he realized shortly after. He gaped at his hand, watching in horror and awe as ribbons of magic wove themselves around his wrist and fingers. They were neither hot nor cold, but they did cause an odd sensation, like thousand tiny needles were poking his skin from the inside. It was magic, different than anything he knew.

Whatever this was, it was coming from within him. Like a flower opening at the touch of the sun, a ball of light appeared in his palm. It was a pulsing, bright green glow which seemed to match the beat of his racing heart. As he stared at it, with his jaw hanging and panic swelling in his throat, he suddenly remembered.

The temple. The dead. The hole in the sky.

Yes … that was it! He jumped to his foot and looked around the room with new eyes. Yes! He remembered! He knew what this place was! Well, not the room, exactly, but he knew the outside. He was in a village up high in the mountains, where the mages and the Chantry were supposed to meet. The mage rebellion had been going on for several years now and finally, the rest of Thedas had decided to put an end to it. First Enchanter Irving had been invited to take part in the negotiations, as he had once been in charge of the Circle in Ferelden.

However, the meeting never occurred. There had been an attack which had destroyed the temple. Everyone inside it had perished. Everyone … but him.

A soft sigh rolled off his lips as the memories flooded him. He looked down at his hand, still swallowed by the eerie green light; the same magic that had torn down the great temple and killed First Enchanter Irving and so many others. Such an evil thing to do. A chill ran down his spine and he closed his eyes for a moment. More details were clearing up in his mind, like bubbles racing to the surface of boiling water, and each was worse than the previous one. He remembered what had happened afterwards, how he'd been caught, chained and accused.

But he was innocent, he thought, frowning. His memory was still foggy, and he wasn't sure how exactly the events had unfolded. But he didn't need his memory to be certain of his innocence. He _knew_ he was a good person. He couldn't even imagine sinking to such a state where he would wish for someone's death, let alone act on such a desire.

The door opened, cutting him off from his thoughts. As he turned his attention towards it, a young woman entered. She was carrying a crate of logs and was humming softly to herself. When she saw him, however, she froze in one place. Her jaw dropped, followed by her load.

“The Herald!”

“Hi there.” He gave her a warm smile and a wave. “Is this your house? It's really nice.”

He got up and took a step forward, with the intention to gather the wood. But the woman – who was an elf too, just like him - seemed to think he had something nefarious in mind. As he neared her, she let out a high-pitched yelp and then fell to her knees.

“Hey, hey, are you alright?” He quickly crouched beside her. “Did you get hurt?”

“Forgive me. I am unworthy of being in your presence!” The woman started bowing, dropping her head to the floor. “Blessed be Andraste!”

“I … yes, sure. Of course.” He glanced towards the door, wondering if he should go out and seek help. This woman obviously was in distress. “Uuuhhh … what's going on?”

“Lady Pentaghast. I need to tell her that you're awake.” The woman got up on her knees. Her eyes, huge as platters, were fixed on him. He found it odd that she was so focused on him, but at the same time was apparently not listening to what he was saying. “She said she is to be informed the moment you wake up. Immediately. She said so. I … I must go.”

She stood up, gave him one last frightened look, then turned on her heel and ran off. She was in such a hurry, she didn't even close the door properly. He stared after her, then clicked his tongue. He'd hoped that perhaps the woman would explain what was going on, but their short conversation had left him even more confused than before.

He couldn't blame the woman for being afraid. The magic clinging to him was proof that he was somehow involved in what had happened. Even if he hadn't barged into the temple, shooting spells at everyone and everything, he might have done something that had pushed the events to their tragic end. But what exactly? That detail kept eluding him.

Staying in here would not help him, though. If he truly wanted answers, it seemed that he had to go out and seek them. Or rather, seek out someone who knew what was happening. And he had a certain someone in mind already: the woman who had arrested him. She was scary and stern, from what he remembered, and he got the impression that she didn't like him much. He shivered as he remembered how she'd yelled at him and how she'd pushed him around while he was bound in his cell.

He wasn't sure how good of an idea it was to see this woman again. But who else could he turn to? Before, he'd always rely on First Enchanter Irving to help out. But his mentor was gone. He chewed on his lower lip and dragged his nails along the floorboards. He was all alone now, he suddenly realized.

He cast another glance around the room – in case he'd missed something – then got up to his feet and walked to the door. Through the small opening, he could catch a glimpse of the outside world. The village was just as he remembered it – wooden cabins covered in snow. He'd found it quite a peaceful and picturesque place, but, of course, that had been before this chaos started.

He opened the door wider and was ready to step outside when he saw the crowd. Hundreds of people had lined up in front of the house. They weren't just loitering around, minding their own business. The stood in neat lines, looking like an army of soldiers. In fact, as he looked closer, most of them _were_ soldiers. They were all waiting for something. Or perhaps someone, he realized with a jolt. Was it him? He immediately shrunk back into the house and shut the door.

He remained still for a while, with his forehead pressed against the wood. Did these people see him? Did they know he was in here? Could they hear him? He quickly placed a hand over his mouth to silence his breathing. These people didn't seem dangerous, but there were far too many of them and they weren't happy with him at all before. They were most likely waiting for him to emerge so they could arrest him again. Perhaps they even had something more nefarious in mind.

Chewing his lower lip, he gripped the door frame tightly. No, he shouldn't be so scared. He was innocent, he was sure of it. Hiding in here would only strengthen others' assumptions of his guilt. He opened the door once more, slowly. Before setting a foot outside, he checked for weapons. The soldiers were armed, as could be expected, but even the regular people were carrying some sort of tool – a shovel, a pickaxe, a pitchfork, and others which he couldn't name. It was not the sort of crowd he would gladly walk into if he had any other choice.

Helpless, he directed his eyes upwards. The sky was dark and heavy with clouds, as if a storm was approaching. He knew that wasn't the case, however. Somewhere in the distance, where the temple once stood, the sky was glowing bright green. He looked at his hand just in time to see a thin strip of magic in the same emerald colour slither across his skin. Once again, there was no pain, merely a barely felt tingle. He'd never seen such magic. It certainly wasn't something he could do.

He looked back at the crowd - and he saw her. The woman who had arrested him. She was standing behind the crowd, atop a small hill. She was staring at him and when their eyes met, she gave him a curt nod. Taking the gesture as an invitation, he hurried towards her. Though his experiences with that woman weren't pleasant, at this point she was something familiar and he was eager to reach her. In this whole ocean of confusion, it was a blessing to find shelter in something known.

As he walked through the crowd, he could feel the heavy tension shift quite a bit. The people ahead of him were staring in silence, but as soon as he passed them, they erupted into hushed whispers. He could even see out of the corner of his eye that some were pointing at him. He couldn't hear what anyone was saying, and the few odd words he caught only confused him more.

No one was trying to apprehend him or stop him, however. Emboldened, he quickened his pace, eager to meet the woman and hopefully get the answers he so desperately needed.

Up close, she looked far friendlier. In his mind, her face appeared as cruel, with lips tightly squeezed and eyes glaring in anger. But now she seemed much more relaxed and he fancied he even saw a hint of approval in her eyes when he stood before her.

„It is good to see you awake.“ She spoke with a thick, peculiar accent which distorted her voice slightly, making it difficult for him to guess the emotion behind her words. He hoped she truly was happy. “Are you alright?”

„I'm fine, thank you. I'm glad I'm awake too.“ He paused for a few seconds, mulling over the woman's name. A particular one was floating in his mind and it _seemed_ the right one, but he couldn't be sure. “You … were called Cassandra, I hope?”

„You remembered?“

“Oh, so I was right!” Tamarion grinned and bounced on his heels. “Good. I'm glad. I forget so many things.”

„Yes, you told me already.“ Cassandra reached, to his momentary horror, for her sword. But she merely adjusted it so that it was lying flat against her thigh. “Follow me. We have much to talk about.”

She turned and walked off. He scrambled to follow her, taken a little aback. Though there were pathways across the village where the snow was cleared, the ground was still frozen and slippery. He was unused to walking on such a surface and he struggled to keep up with Cassandra's steady and brisk steps. She walked like a soldier, he thought.

They walked in silence until they were far away from the crowd. After making sure that no one could overhear them, Cassandra spoke up.

„I'm curious,“ she said, causing him to move his gaze up from his feet to her. She wasn't looking at him, but surely she was talking to him. There was no one else around. “What is your position on the war between the mages and the templars? Do you support your people's fight?”

“I guess I do. I-Oh!”

He'd stepped onto a small lump of ice. The crunching sound it made as it shattered under his boot was quite satisfying. It would have been better if he hadn't slipped and fallen, though. His elbow hit the ground with a less satisfying crunching sound. He quickly got up, flushed with embarrassment.

“S-sorry …” He rubbed his arm, wincing at the pain. “Er … we were talking about the mage war, right? I don't know much about it. First Enchanter Irving was never too eager to tell me about it.”

“But you must know something.” Cassandra insisted. “It has been going on for years! I find it hard to believe that you would have missed it all.”

“I mean, I did hear some things.”

Kinloch Hold wasn't entirely isolated from the outside world. They still received visitors. Well, the senior mages did, and it was mostly templars who were in need of some counselling. Still, they brought news with them and he, who was usually tasked with looking after their guests, had learned enough of the mage rebellion to understand how it had started.

“I don't really have an opinion ...” he said. “This whole ordeal seems so complicated and … well, beyond me. But I can understand why it happened. The tower isn't a nice place. It's … cold. Lonely. I've seen how it used to be and it wasn't any better back then either. I believe it was like that in other Circles too.”

„So you support the free mages,” Cassandra concluded. “And yet _you_ remained in the Circle. It's odd.“

„No, it really isn't.” He smiled. “It was the best place for me to be, you see. The war had already started by the time I woke up. And I wasn't really in any condition to go out there and fight.“

In the meantime, they'd reached the Chantry which seemed to be where Cassandra had been leading him. Another woman was waiting for them by the entrance. He recognized her bright red hair. She had been in his cell too - not as a prisoner, of course. She and Cassandra were working together. Only, he couldn't remember _her_ name.

She seemed much nicer. She had a kind smile on her face as she approached them and he immediately felt better. This person would never yell at him.

„I'm glad to see you on your feet,“ she told him before turning to Cassandra. “Did you explain everything to him?”

„A moment, Leliana.“ Cassandra waved a hand impatiently. With her eyebrows furrowed, she suddenly looked mean again. She turned to him and he instinctively took a step back, startled by her sharp glare. “What did you mean just now? You said you woke up - from what?”

„I … didn't tell you?“ He looked at Cassandra, then at Leliana; both were staring at him with puzzled expressions. He gasped and covered his mouth. “Oh! Oh my! Well, no wonder you're so confused! You don't know the most important thing about me!”

“Then perhaps you can explain?” Cassandra's voice was as icy as the ground. Her hand was on her sword once more.

“Right, yeah.” He paused. His lips moved while he tried to collect his thoughts. “Okay, this is how things are. Uhhh … I'm a mage, right? We go through this ritual called a Harrowing. It's basically a test, right, to see if … uhh … if we're good mages or not. Basically, it's a-”

“We're both quite well aware of the nature of the Harrowing,” Leliana interrupted him. She didn't sound impatient, merely slightly amused. “Please, continue.”

“Oh! Alright then.” He cleared his throat. “Well … something went wrong with my Harrowing. I don't know what. I've asked First Enchanter Irving but he never told me. Come to think of it, maybe he didn't know either.”

Sometimes, he would have nightmares and he always got a nasty feeling in his gut whenever he passed the room where the incident happened. He'd quickly given up on asking about his Harrowing. First Enchanter Irving was always guarded about the subject. He would repeatedly tell Tamarion that his Harrowing had been ' _quite unfortunate_ ' and it was better not to discuss it further.

“I'm not sure what happened,” he continued. “I don't remember. Something … went wrong. It went very wrong. It had to be something quite powerful and magical, you see, because the whole room was destroyed.” He scratched the back of his neck, wondering how he could describe something that wasn't in his mind. “I was knocked out and I must have taken quite the damage. When I woke up, I had no idea who I was, where I was, nothing. Everything that I was before was gone.”

„And you still remember nothing?“ Cassandra asked.

„Absolutely nothing.” He nodded. “First Enchanter Irving was hoping it would be temporary, that my memories would eventually come back. But ... well, it's been three years now and nothing's changed. Also, I'm really forgetful. I think I might have got hit in the head.“

“How unfortunate for you,” Leliana said with sadness in her voice. “Enchanter Irving couldn't help you?”

“No.”

He'd tried to, but none of his efforts achieved anything. But it wasn't his fault, really, nor was it a sign of incompetence. After all, how could one find a cure if the illness remained unknown?

„I see.“ Cassandra threw Leliana a glance, and the other woman nodded. “That is quite an unusual story, I must say. I think I understand how you must feel now. You must be very confused by all that has happened.”

He nodded. He could see how it had come to him being suspected. What were the odds of so many powerful and wise people dying, and him being the sole survivor? It made no sense.

“I know I didn't do it.” He paused, then amended himself. “Actually, I can't know that. I don't know what happened over there.” His eyes darted towards the chasms in the sky just in time to see an emerald lightning bolt slice through the clouds. “I don't have the skills to destroy the temple. I swear I don't. But there's this thing on my hand, and I don't know what it is or how it got there. But it's got something to do with this chaos and since it's on me … perhaps I am the one at fault after all ...”

„No, you're not,“ Leliana said. She stepped forward and took his hand, the one with the green magic on it. She squeezed it for a second. “After what Cassandra saw and heard in the temple, we believe someone else is behind the attack. You _were_ involved, but it seems that you actually tried to help. As far as the Inquisition is concerned, you are clear of any suspicion.”

„Oh?“ He blinked, then smiled in relief. “I'm so happy that I didn't hurt any of these people! And I truly hope you find the person responsible.”

„I have no doubt that we'll do that.” Leliana smiled. “With your help.“

„Me?” He blinked. “You want my help? Why?”

“You give people hope. They are looking up to you, you know?”

„ _Me_?“ He repeated, even more confused. The mages in the tower hardly ever looked at him, except when they wanted their laundry folded. “Er … why?”

„Ah! We've finally come to the point.” Leliana smiled and gestured towards the building behind her. “Come, the others are waiting.”

He followed the two women inside. They led him down a hallway to a room at the end. It was rather small and cramped, mainly due to the giant table. It was heavy and sturdy, a quite imposing piece of furniture that belonged in a much grander room. A map of Thedas was lying on the table – he recognized it, as he'd seen a similar one in Kinloch Hold - and someone had scattered little figurines on top of it.

There were two other people in the room: a man and a woman. They were likely the ones Leliana had mentioned. He studied them with interest, unsure whether he'd met them before or not.

„Let me introduce you to Lady Josephine Montilyet,“ Cassandra said, gesturing to the woman. “She is our ambassador. It's her responsibility to coddle the nobles.”

“Lady Pentaghast!” Lady Josephine giggled. “You know I do more than that!”

She turned to him and gave him a small curtsy. She seemed very nice and jovial, with a kind smile and bright eyes. She had dark skin, just like him – something quite rare in Ferelden, he'd been told. But perhaps Lady Josephine wasn't Fereldan at all. She spoke with a rather pleasant accent that he'd never heard before. In addition to that, he guessed she was nobility herself, as she wore a very beautiful and expensive dress.

„I'm glad to see that what happened at the temple has left no lasting damages,“ Lady Josephine said and curtsied again. “I would like to officially welcome you in Haven, Herald.”

“Oohhh … thank you.“ Tamarion smiled, returning the gesture. He wasn't sure what kind of help Cassandra and Leliana were expecting of him, but he found Lady Josephine's kindness quite comforting. Perhaps it was her ability to soothe people that had earned her such a position. “Is it easy to talk to noblemen? I don't believe I've ever met one.”

„The Inquisition is still in its infancy, so most of the influential families in Thedas are reluctant to publicly support us,” Lady Josephine replied. “But we are making progress, slowly. A certain amount of tact is needed … and a couple of clever twistings of the truth. Without intending to brag, I believe that I am doing rather well, considering the circumstances.“

„More than well!“ Cassandra nodded. She turned to Lady Josephine with a smile. “It is thanks to you that we have a base here. You're the one who convinced the duke to lend us his land.”

„It's my job, after all.“ Lady Josephine gave her a modest smile. “Thank you, Cassandra.”

“We are all grateful for Josie,” Leliana joined in. For the first time since meeting her, her voice sounded harsh. “But let us move on, Cassandra. We don't have all day.”

“Yes, of course.” Cassandra took a step back and squared her shoulders. She pointed at the man. “This is commander Cullen Rutherford. He's in charge of our troops.”

Until now, Cullen had remained silent. He'd retreated into the shadows, though, given his build, he could hardly remain unnoticed. He'd had his gaze fixed on Tamarion the moment he'd come in. He was still staring but flinched and looked away when the others' attention fell on him. He leaned over the table and adjusted a few of the figurines, pointing them all forward.

„Yes. Hm.” He cleared his throat. “At the moment our forces aren't much to speak of. As our lady ambassador mentioned, the Inquisition is still very much new and … unknown. But I am happy to report that we have had a steady stream of volunteers coming in since news of the Breach spread.“

„That's good,“ Tamarion said with a smile. “So you have lots of soldiers.”

“I can hardly call them soldiers. I doubt most have held a weapon before. But they seem quite eager to learn.”

“I'm sure they'll train as hard as they can!”

Cullen smiled shyly – a gesture which Tamarion eagerly returned. The commander was a very charming man. He was tall and well-built, and his face was quite pleasant to look at too. He couldn't be sure, but he thought Cullen must be a knight. He stood very upright, with his shoulders squared and his chest puffed out. And he looked very much like how a knight should. His favourite book back home had a picture of a knight in it and he would often lay in bed and admire it. Cullen looked just like the knight in that picture. Only he wasn't wearing a full suit of armour.

“Well, it seems like you are well prepared,” he said. “I saw how your soldiers fought against the monsters. I think whoever killed First Enchanter Irving and the Divine Lady is very sorry that you're on their trail.”

„If he still lives.“ Leliana said darkly. “We still haven't found any proof that anyone else has survived the Breach.”

„He's alive,“ Cassandra said. “We aren't that lucky.”

“In either case, we mustn't lose focus,” Cullen added. “This wasn't the work of a lone person. Whoever is behind this has accomplices. It's our duty to find out who they are and bring them to justice. We must make sure that this affair is put to an end.”

„I agree.“

The other four turned to him and Tamarion, with his cheeks burning, quickly looked down. He didn't mean to express his thoughts out loud but he'd got carried away listening to Cullen's impassioned speech. Small wonder he was commanding the soldiers, he could rouse _anyone_ to action!

What the commander had said was true. The person who'd torn the sky open and killed hundreds could still be alive, still out there, with the power to wreak havoc over and over again until they achieved their goals. They had to be stopped before more people died.

“Cullen's right,” he said, tapping his fingers on the table. “There are people out there who are truly evil. They killed First Enchanter Irving and so many more. I want to stop them.” He looked up. The others were still staring at him, but he chose to address Leliana specifically. “What do you want me to do?”

„Many are seeing you as a saviour,“ Leliana replied. “They're calling you the Herald of Andraste.”

He nodded. Now that he thought about it, the elven woman earlier had addressed him as a herald as well. He didn't know what that was, so he'd assumed she'd used that word because she didn't know his name. But now he realized this was some sort of title, and an important one too.

“Not all is well, though,” Cassandra said. “The Chantry has declared you a heretic.”

“Oh?” He blinked. He'd thought that the Inquisition and the Chantry were the same thing. Apparently, they weren't. “But … I didn't do anything.”

“You're a convenient target,” she explained. “The Chantry is … not fond of the Inquisition. They are hoping to discredit us by convincing people that _we_ have declared you Herald in an attempt to seize power from them.”

“And they are currently trying to achieve it,” Lady Josephine added, “by claiming that Andraste would never choose someone like you as her Herald.”

“Why's that? Because I'm a man?”

“I think that their concerns lie in the fact that you're a mage and an elf.”

“Oh, that?” He frowned. “But those too are things that are out of my control! I was born an elf and a mage. I never asked to be either.”

Back in the tower, he'd never faced any issues for being an elf. He was aware that outside of the Circle his kind were treated harshly, but … that never seemed real to him. He knew it was _real_. But it happened beyond the tower's walls, so to him, it were as if it was happening in another world. It was easy to forget about it, especially with his shoddy memory.

“I can't stop being an elf,” he said quietly, absently stroking his ear. “I suppose I can stop using my magic, but … it's the one thing I can do. I'm not sure I can be of any use to you just being me.”

“We do have a glimmer of hope.” Leliana patted the map with a finger. “We received a message from a priestess of Andraste. Mother Giselle. She wishes to speak with the Herald.”

“Why? So she can yell at me?”

“No.” Leliana chuckled. “I was left with the impression that she is on our side. Or is at least willing to hear us out. We should take advantage of the opportunity.”

“Alright. I'll talk with her, if it will help.” Tamarion nodded. “Where is she?”

“That's the issue. Mother Giselle is in the Hinterlands. Currently, they are little more than a battlefield. After the failure of the conclave, the mages and templars reignited their war.” Leliana paused. “Mother Giselle is tending to the wounded. She doesn't wish to leave her post.”

“So she wants me to go to her.” He hesitated. He didn't want to seem too nervous but at the same time he wasn't sure if he could achieve what Leliana wanted. “What if something bad happens?”

“He's right. This could be a trap, we cannot ignore that possibility.” Cullen turned to Leliana. “I'm willing to accompany Tamarion and serve as his bodyguard.”

He beamed. Oh, yes, _yes_! With Cullen as his protector, he was sure nothing could harm him. He nodded eagerly, but before he could say anything, Cassandra spoke with an icy tone.

“Your place is here, Cullen. Our troops need as much training as they can get. _I_ will go with the Herald.”

Cullen's smile faded. His cheeks turned red and he took a step back.

“Right, of course.” He rubbed the back of his head, looking ashamed, like a child that had just been scolded. “My apologies, lady Cassandra.”

“I believe the Herald will be safe with Cassandra by his side. And, from what I hear, he is more than capable on defending himself.” Leliana smiled. “I'll send my agents to the Hinterlands. They'll clear a safe path to mother Giselle for you.”

“Thank you, Leliana. I appreciate that.” Cassandra turned to Tamarion. “Do you have any questions?”

“Yes. A lot.” He took a deep breath. “I still have no idea what's _really_ going on and I don't know what a herald is and I'm not sure why you want me around and just … thinking about it all is … scary.” He paused. “And I'm a little hungry.”

Lady Josephine chuckled.

“I can help with the last one.”


End file.
